


A Blinding Sunset

by claquesous



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Force-Sensitive Jyn Erso, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 15:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9330977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claquesous/pseuds/claquesous
Summary: Since her childhood, Jyn has dreamed of a sunset so bright she couldn’t look at it. Of arms around her shoulders and clumpy sand that clings to her boots.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the opposite of a fix-it fic. I will atone later with fluff and possible porn.
> 
> Also, Jyn and Galen and probably Lyra are all Force-sensitive, I will brook no debate.

Since her childhood, Jyn has dreamed of a sunset so bright she couldn’t look at it. Of arms around her shoulders and clumpy sand that clings to her boots. No sounds ever accompany the dream; not, at least, that she remembers after waking. It’s always just the strong arms around her, the hot breath on her neck, and the brilliant sunrise leaving spots in her vision when she wakes up.

As she gets older, parts of the dream become clearer and others fainter. She remembers the distinct impression of silhouettes against the blinding sky from when she was six or seven; but by the time she is fourteen she never remembers seeing them and by the time she is eighteen she seriously doubts she ever saw them.

Something she’s only just now started to notice is the person hugging her. It’s a man, she’s pretty sure, which is a fairly recent development itself, but what she becomes more certain of every time she wakes up with this dream fresh on her eyelids is the difficulty he’s having breathing. He sounds like he’s just run five miles, or been injured. Jyn wonders what’s happened to him.

She doesn’t know why she pays so much attention to the details of this dream. It’s never been a particularly lucid one; she only manages to scavenge such details from her subconscious because it's a more and more frequent visitor. These days she has it almost every other night. She’s never told anyone about it except her father, once, when she was eight. He was gone, along with the rest of her known world, by the next time she had the dream.

When she meets Cassian Andor, it’s not immediately that she recognizes him as the strong arms and labored breathing before the white sunset. It’s not until he’s helping her out of Saw Gerrera’s ruined fortress, out of his ruined city, when they’re pressed together and his breath is deafening in her ears. Jyn releases her grip on his shoulders in surprise and almost falls. She pretends it was the shock.

She spends a long time thinking about it and finally decides, rolling her kyber crystal between her fingers, that this must mean the dream is truth. The future, even. She can’t imagine what she’ll be doing on a beach at sunset with Cassian Andor, but she looks forward to it, in a way.

When they land on Scarif, her boots sink into the sand. Dread coils in her stomach like a chain dropped from a height. It doesn’t curb her efficiency, though, the relentless drive forward that she has felt biting at her heels practically since infancy. Even knowing she’s advancing toward what is probably the edge, it doesn’t slow her charge.

When Cassian falls in the archives, her heart shatters. And then she remembers the dream. Does this mean it was all just a dream after all? That the only thing she was ever supposed to understand from it was the fact that Cassian would be the only person in her life never to leave her behind? How ironic to be leaving  _ him  _ behind. Something turns to stone in her chest and knocks around like a pebble in a shoe.

But then… he’s back. Jyn wants to fling herself into his arms and cry, but they still have shit to do. The pieces of her world Cassian’s non-death displaced fall gently back into their places, and an inexplicable calm falls over her. It’s fucked up that knowing Cassian will die  _ with _ her is so comforting. But it is. It’s more comforting than Galen promising her his every thought and action. It’s more comforting than Lyra’s noble but vain, selfish death. It’s more comforting than Saw Gerrera’s excuses for why he left Jyn behind. It’s more comforting than knowing she was rescued from that labor camp on purpose.

The thirty seconds in that silent elevator are the most peaceful she’s ever known. Cassian’s dark eyes meet hers in the dim light and she is home. K2 is dead, but she is home. Everyone else will likely soon be dead, or may already be dead, but Cassian is here, and Cassian is holding her like he’s sorry he didn’t find her earlier, and she is returning the sentiment with a ginger, painful kiss, and then they are stumbling into that blinding sunset.

It’s louder than she expected. X-wings and TIE fighters rend the air above them, screeching and shooting at each other. Things explode all around them, but they remain unharmed. Mostly. Cassian can barely walk, but in the grand scheme of things. How pleasant to die a whole. How much pleasanter to die a pair. Jyn hugs Cassian like she has never hugged anyone before: with no undertone of a goodbye. They will never part. There is no place Cassian is going that she will not also be.

His breath is labored against her neck. His arms tighten around her so he might not fall. She squeezes him back and blinks the tears away so she can be properly blinded by that beautiful, deadly sunset.


End file.
